


games we play//collide

by words_unravel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cheating, F/M, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The whole thing is a train wreck in the making, an inevitable conclusion of broken and bloody chaos.<i></i></i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	games we play//collide

**Author's Note:**

> First off, a shout out to my lovely betas on this fic - [croissantkatie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/croissantkatie/pseuds/croissantkatie) and [daisysusan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/daisysusan/pseuds/daisysusan). A heartfelt apology to daisysusan for not being a better beta recipient - I will definitely try harder in the future should she ever agree to beta again <3\. From here on out, any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> This fic is a little odd, for me at least, both in style and tone. I took some liberties, as well; however, it was hella interesting to write and I hope you enjoy it anyway. 
> 
> (Those tags kind of negate themselves, don't they? Oops. They still both apply. <3)
> 
>  
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

She can tell Louis's preoccupied and when she asks about it, he just says he hasn't heard from Liam in a few days and that there'd been something off with him lately, but he wouldn't say what. A couple days after that, she gets two texts almost simultaneously. The first is from Louis, _li just told me he and danielle broke up :((_. She knows who the second one is from before she opens it. She calls the number after reading the message and Dani's voice only breaks once during their short conversation, when she says, "Make sure Louis takes care of him, okay?" Eleanor makes the promise, but feels a bit lost when the phone call ends. 

Eleanor watches the media. She catches the Alan Carr interview and sees Liam's face on the girlfriend question, sees the way Louis leans into him just a little, and knows that she won't have to worry about her promise. Louis is a good friend; he'll watch out for him. 

Except the next time she pays attention, it's to Liam's new buzz cut, to paparazzi pics of him and Andy out nearly every night. It's to Louis's texts, growing frustration evident. 

She normally does her best to distance herself from the life the boys lead, that way lies madness and she's got enough to deal with on the periphery the way she is. She still talks to Danielle (less than she use to, but they're still friends) and there's always an unspoken question in Danielle's voice. 

The whole thing is a train wreck in the making, an inevitable conclusion of broken and bloody chaos. 

 

There's a missed phone call, late on Halloween while she's still out with friends, and a voice mail that only says _Liam tried to kiss me tonight_. 

Eleanor thinks that she should be more shocked, really, but she's just. Not. She's actually happy that Louis told her, that he loves her enough to be that honest. (It's the second time that's happened - the first was when Louis had whispered in her ear - like maybe if he said it quietly enough, it would make it less real - that he slept with Harry, back in the early days of X Factor. That he liked it, likes boys as well as girls, but he loves her. And if Eleanor is sure of anything, it's to the fact that Louis is loyal, _faithful_. 

She watches the interview that happens the day after. Liam's a little stiff at first but Louis is Louis, pushing into his space, touching like always, like nothing's different and Liam lets him. 

Louis calls her later, after the sun's down and she answers the phone with, "Did you want him to?" There's a long pause and she listens to him breathe, try to find his words. Finally he says, "I don't know what to do, El. Every time I think he's better, he stops sleeping. He doesn't drink so much now that we're not in London, not with promo the next day. Until last night and that's my fault, I suppose. But I was there to watch out for him, you know?" 

She lets him talk himself out and asks him once again, "Did you want him to?" 

"Maybe?" He finally answers. "I don't know, El. I just." She can picture the look on his face, the frustration and anger he so often directs at himself. "I don't know what else to do." 

They sit there in silence for a while, breaths exchanged over the line until she tells him, "I trust you, you know that. I love you and I trust you and I know that you'll come back to me." She pauses and he says her name so quietly, she almost doesn't hear it. "Dani made me promise that you'd take care of him, Louis," she finally murmurs. "And I _trust_ you." 

Despite that conversation, nothing happens. Louis comes home for Christmas before they have to start preparing for the 2013 tour. All he tells her is that Liam seems to be better and that maybe everything will be all right now. He holds her close, touches her like he's reassuring them both. She lets him because she knows he needs it. 

The tour starts; Louis is exhausted and exhilarated. He leaves her long rambling voice mails, constantly interrupted by his boys in the background, with his voice always on the edge of laughter. She saves more of them than she'll ever let him know. 

And then, because even after almost eight months it's still _news_ , Danielle gets papped on a date and it's all over Sugarscape and TMZ. Twitter explodes. Andy shows up on tour and Eleanor gets a text at 4:30 in the morning that says only _El?_. She taps out _Trust you._ and settles back into bed, watching as the screen on her mobile goes dark where it's laying on the pillow next to her head. 

She's not really sure how Louis convinces him. Whether it's a night like previously, where Liam tries to kiss him and Louis lets him. Whether it's Louis that initiates it. She's aware of the type of person Liam is, from things both Louis and Danielle have said. He's big on commitment and faithfulness. He's good at guilt, Louis has told her. All she knows is that Louis's voice has lost that bit of desperation that was there. She knows that Andy has gone home and that makes Louis happier than anything else. 

It's the end of July when another early morning call that wakes her. It's Louis's number that flashes on her screen, but her, "Louis?" is answered back with silence. There's an intake of air on the other end of the line, but no words come and she knows that it's not her boyfriend who's called her. 

"Liam?" she says softly. There's the rush of an exhale and then the call cuts off. She's not entirely sure why, but she never tells Louis about it. Maybe she doesn't want Liam to feel more guilty than he already does, maybe that's why. 

 

The boys are off almost the entire month of August. Louis comes home and they take a week again, before she has to start school again. They lay out in the sun during the day and then slide together during the night, skin to skin. Louis maps her body like he's starving for it. She does the same to his. 

He replies, "I think he's good now," to her when she asks after Liam, and that seems to be that. 

 

They go back out for the last leg and there are shots of Liam out every other night, a different girl on his arm, and Eleanor watches as it's Louis that looks like he's not sleeping now. In interviews, Liam sits beside Niall or Zayn now, always a space between him and Louis. The fans, so very quick to notice those little things, rampantly throw conspiracy theories across Twitter and Tumblr. She thinks that they might be a little closer to the truth than they'd had ever expected to be. 

The phones calls she gets now are quieter, Louis's voice rough. The tour ends and they all disappear from each other. It's been a long year, for everyone. A couple months pass and the holidays come. Eleanor's finishes her exams early and goes to London. 

They come back from a night out, a lovely dinner at a place Louis knows she loves and she's got her face tucked in his neck as they walk out of the lift. There's a figure slumped outside the door to his flat. When Liam lifts his head, eyes red and bleary, Eleanor's not quite sure she's seen someone so completely fractured. 

Louis falls to his knees beside him with a quiet, "Jesus Christ, Li. What've you done to yourself?" Liam hiccups a laugh that holds no actual laughter and as Eleanor watches, his face crumbles. 

"I think I'm broken, Lou," he mumbles. "Because nobody stays." 

She can hear Louis curse again and it's only when he's struggling to get Liam off the floor, does she move. She pulls at his other arm and they manage to get him up. Louis struggles to get the door open and Liam's weight shifts until his face is tucked into her neck. She can feel him talking, the words low and muffled by her skin. His head rolls to the side, resting on her shoulder and she can make out the word _sorry_ , over and over again. 

Liam dries out, sleeping in Louis's guest room. Louis supplies him with too-sweet tea and toast and Eleanor listens to the murmur of conversations too quiet to fully make out. When Liam is finally up, he won't look her in the eye. 

Eleanor doesn't leave and Louis won't let Liam go back to his own place. They make it through the first day and it's awkward, of course it is. But by the time dinner rolls around, there's colour back in Liam's face and he doesn't flinch every time Eleanor speaks. She counts it as win. 

Liam's trying to sneak out when Eleanor wakes the next morning. 

He freezes when she walks into the living room, eyes wide. She studies him for a minute, remembers Louis's laughter the night before as they tried to distract each other while playing video games. The crinkles at the corner of both their eyes before Liam remembered exactly where he was. 

"It'll really disappoint him," is all she says, making her way toward the kitchen, "if you leave before he wakes." 

She doesn't hear the front door and releases a breath she didn't know she was holding when he shuffles into the kitchen. 

"Ellie-" She starts at the nickname. "Eleanor," Liam quickly corrects, stumbling over the words, "sorry, sorry." She continues making tea, ignoring the warmth that curls in her stomach. She _hates_ silly nicknames. 

He starts to say something, but doesn't finish. She turns, watching as he ducks his head, a flush spreading over his cheeks. 

"It was you," she finally says, "that called me that one night. Wasn't it?" His flush darkens and he runs a hand over his face, then through his hair. She waits him out; she's good at it. He finally nods, eyes still downcast. "Why?" she asks. 

That makes Liam look up, eyes wide like he can't understand why she would ask that. She wants to know though and he finally gets that, mouth opening and closing a couple times. In the end, he ends up slumped back against the counter, arms crossed, his hands curled around his biceps. He'd look five years old, if not for the dark circles under his eyes, or the two days' worth of scruff along his jaw. 

"I suppose-" he stops, brows pulling together as he stares back at the floor. "I suppose I wanted to know why." He finally looks back up, adding, "Why he would do that. Why you would let him." 

Eleanor's not really sure what to say. How to convey that Louis is important to her and that Liam is important to Louis. She doesn't think Liam would understand something she barely understands herself. In the end, she shrugs, and tells him what she told Louis all those months before. "I trust him." 

The answer isn't satisfying, she can tell by the look on Liam's face, but the kettle finishes boiling and she goes back to preparing the tea. Before she can reach for them, Liam's next to her, opening the cupboard and handing the cups over. He's close and she knows that Liam's bigger than Louis, but it's still a surprise to find out how much space he takes up this close. She murmurs a thanks as she takes the cups. Her hands tremble the tiniest bit as she pours the hot water over the tea bags and she's not quite sure why. 

 

Liam stays. 

He stays and Eleanor watches Louis's shoulders lower. She watches the circles disappear from under Liam's eyes. They go out. To eat. To a movie. One day they hit up a mini golf park and she watches Liam's hands, the way they look on Louis's shoulder, on his neck or on his waist, when Liam's not thinking. He's loose, relaxed, and Eleanor finds she likes the way he touches Louis, how easy and familiar and _warm_ each touch is. 

She watches the way Louis's mouth curls up, the way his eyes nearly close with every smile. She watches the way they warm even further when the alight on her. It's the most fun she's had in months. 

They go to eat and Liam holds the door, places a hand low on her back when there's a step. When she tells him thank you, she gets her own smile and feels her lips return it. Liam's widens and there are tiny divots at the top of his cheeks. During dinner, Liam talks more than she's ever heard and she keeps noticing the way his mouth moves. 

It's nice. 

The next night, she and Louis are curled on the sofa. His hand is creeping up her thigh and when she glances over it's to find Liam passed out on the other side of Louis. His head is tilted at an awkward angle and she wants to wake him, send him to sleep in a real bed. Louis ghosts his fingers under the edge of her sleep shorts and she can't help the small sounds that slips out. 

Louis whispers a _shhhh_ against her neck, teeth scraping the same spot a moment later. She arches into it, lets her legs fall open a little further. Louis's fingers are more insistent now, pressing over her knickers to find her clit. She's so wet already and Louis reacts to that, biting down hard enough that Eleanor has to dig her teeth into her own lip to stop the noise that wants to slip out. 

It's not going to take long; she can feel the familiar warmth, low in her belly. It's harder to keep quiet when Louis finally pushes her knickers aside, gets his fingers on her for real. She looks over at Liam again, to make sure he's still asleep, and her gaze falls on Liam's mouth. She can't help it then, the flash of a thought. 

Of Liam's mouth where Louis's fingers are. 

She thinks of Liam's lips, slick with her wetness. 

She thinks of Louis licking her taste off of Liam's mouth and comes hard enough that for a moment, everything goes white behind her eyelids. 

Louis drags her off the sofa and her legs wobble a little as they make their way to the bedroom. Eleanor's not sure what it says about of either of them that Louis doesn't completely close the door to bedroom and that she doesn't say anything about it.

 

They all go separate ways for Christmas, home for the holidays as they should. Before they leaves, Louis slips the most delicate gold chain she’s ever seen around her neck. An equally delicate heart, outlined with diamonds rests right above her own heart. It’s warm against her skin, exquisite and perfect. Over Louis’s shoulder she can see the way Liam’s eyes shutter closed, the way he turns his head but doesn’t walk away. She wonders if he’s punishing himself.  
   
Louis presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth and she wraps her arms around his shoulders. She kisses him right, fully, and catches the surprised sound that escapes from his mouth. When she pulls back, Liam’s left them alone.  
   
She thinks that maybe she’s punishing Liam too, but can’t figure out why.  
   
   
   
Eleanor throws herself back into coursework. It keeps her occupied for the most part, but sometimes she’ll come home and the flat seems too empty. She finds it strange how quickly she’d become used to how much space Louis and Liam took up.  
   
Most times when this happens, she’ll call Louis and let his voice fill up some of that space. His voice really is one of her favourite things. The way he’ll smile at her, slightly crooked. She’ll close her eyes and listen to him talk, imagine his face. She wants to ask after Liam, but holds the question inside. Until she doesn’t.  
   
 

“Oh.” Something shifts in Louis’s voice then. It makes Eleanor frown. “He’s, um,” she can picture the way he’s probably digging his teeth into his bottom lip. “He’s actually been seeing someone. For a few weeks now,” he adds. She’s been keeping herself away from the internet, figured it’s best for her sanity. Still, Louis’s words settle heavily in her belly. A quiet hum is all she gives in response.  
   
The break-up is splashed across one of the tabloids in the market.  
   
Before she can stop herself, she’s placed the stupid thing in her basket. She manages to ignore it for the rest of her shopping, laughs at the look the teller gives her when it goes in a sack. It’s not until she’s locked the door of her flat and meticulously put away the groceries that she allows herself to look. When she’s done reading it, she crumples it up and throws it away.  
   
She texts Louis to see how Liam is doing and gets a _He seems to be taking it surprisingly well??_ and that seems like that.  
   
   
   
And then she’s woken up by the sound of someone pounding on her door a week later. When she blinks blearily at her bedside clock, it reads 3:24am. The pounding comes again.  
   
It turns out to be a taxi driver. His passenger is the sprawling figure of Liam Payne and all Eleanor can do is just stare in shock. She turns to the driver and he shrugs, tells her the boy was insistent. Knew exactly where he wanted to go and had the money to cover it. He’d passed out about halfway through the drive and Eleanor takes a second to marvel that the man hadn’t just dropped him off at the local drunk tank. It must show on her face because she gets a shrug and a quiet, “His eyes were sad.”  
   
Eleanor wonders if Liam affects everyone like that, randomly wonders again for the millionth time how Danielle managed to walk away all those months ago. She shakes her head, pushing the thought aside. She needs to figure out how to get Liam inside the flat.  
   
In the end it’s not that hard, the taxi driver – George – slides a shoulder under one arm while Eleanor takes the other side. Liam’s aware enough that he stumbles along with them. He curls his face into Eleanor’s neck and she can smell the alcohol in each warm exhale against her throat. She thinks he murmurs a name but can’t decipher whose it is.  
   
They deposit him on the sofa and George turns to her. “Whatever he did,” he says, “you should talk about it. Never let someone that you love go without a fight.” He’s gone before Eleanor can set him straight, the door closing with a soft click.  
   
She sits on the coffee table, staring at the line of Liam’s profile. Her heart is pounding and for the first time in a long time, she’s not quite sure what to do.  She presses a hand to his shoulder, shakes it. “Liam. _Liam_.”  
   
It takes a few more times, a few more harder shakes, before she sees his eyelashes flutter. She says his name again, quieter this time and he turns his head slowly to look straight at her. “El,” he murmurs. “Eleanorrrrr,” she gets a soft smile. “Ellie,” he adds, laughing when she grimaces instinctively. “Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes drifting closed again. They snap open when she says his name sharply.  
   
“Does anyone know where you are?” She watches as he thinks about it, then shakes his head. His face goes blank when she asks, “Not even Louis?” It’s odd to see; Liam always wears his emotions so openly. He just shakes his head when she asks again.  
   
When she murmurs something about calling Louis, he protests, nearly begging. “Please,” his hand reaches out, brushing her knee. “Please,” he repeats, “I just need-I need it to be quiet. Just for a bit.” He flings his arm over his eyes. “Just for little while. Please,” he whispers. A second later, his breath is evened out and he’s asleep.  
   
Eleanor loses track of how long she sits there, staring. Her phone stays on the table next to her, untouched. 

 

He's still asleep when she leaves for class the next morning. When she returns later that afternoon, he's upright. He picks his head up off the sofa when she walks in and from the way he's rubbing at his eyes, she knows he's not been awake very long.

Eleanor isn't quite sure what to say, so she goes through her regular routine. Keys on the table, coat and handbag on the wall hook. She makes her way into the kitchen and prepares two cups of tea. Liam looks a bit surprised when he takes a sip. She ignores it, and they sit in silence for a while. It's not uncomfortable, surprisingly, although Eleanor can feel Liam's gaze on her every so often. 

Finally she sets her cup down and looks directly at him. He still looks worn out and for a moment, she feels maternal. Wants to wrap him up and send him back to bed. He says quietly, "Thank you for not calling him," and the feeling dissipates. Instead, she feels anger flash through her. At Liam, at herself. 

Half of her wants to know why he chose her, why he came _here_ , but the other half is a little scared of the answer. And that makes her even more angry because Eleanor isn't used to it. She's always met things head on. Even all the shit she gets because of her relationship with Louis hasn't ever made her _afraid_. So there's no reason that Liam, despite his sad, brown eyes, is going to be the first one to make her feel that way. 

Eleanor straightens her shoulders. Pressing her lips together, she tells him, "I don't really appreciate being put in that position." 

The way he finally looks down, glances away from her, makes her feel a bit triumphant. At least until he murmurs, "But you didn't call." She wants to snap at him. Like there were rules in place for this conversation and he's not following them. Liam's fond of rules, she knows this from Louis, from watching him work his way around the two of them during the holidays. And now he's stepping out of those bounds she'd set up in her head. 

"It was three-thirty in the morning, Liam. Some of us have a little respect." She gets a little satisfaction from his reaction, the way he flushes just a bit, watches the tightness around his mouth. She finds she's staring at his mouth and makes herself look away. He murmurs an apology and she shakes her head. 

With a sigh, she finally just asks, "What are you doing here, Liam? Why did you come _here_?" He doesn't answer and she looks up to find him staring. Glancing down, she realizes she's been worrying the heart pendant between her forefinger and thumb. She pushes off her seat, doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, she moves back into the kitchen to put the kettle back on only to realize she's left her cup in the living room.

It doesn't matter because a second later, Liam's placing it on the counter next to her. "El-" he starts, but she cuts him off with a pointed, "You don't get to call me that. That's Louis's."

"Eleanor," he sighs after a moment. Her stomach feels heavy and she doesn't like it, not one bit. She doesn't move though, just waits for him to continue. He does.

"I-I liked how Louis was around you. Settled. Calm. Our lives are just so--there's always _so much_ to do. So much going on." From the corner of her eye she can see him run his hands over his head, like he still expects it to be short. It was for so long. "He just always seemed content around you," he adds. "When I broke it off with Sarah, there was nothing. I mean, I dated her for long enough that there should have been something, right? But there wasn't. I wasn't happy, I wasn't sad, just. I wasn't anything. So I had a drink, and then I had a dozen more." 

The kettle finishes and he's moving before she can get to it, picking it up and pouring the water into their cups. He makes an inquiring noise and she points to the cabinet in front of him. As he gets the tea down, she watches his hands. They're larger than Louis's, of course, more broad across the palms. His fingers are longer, thicker. He hands a cup over to her and she looks away, looks at his face. He's turned toward her, hip against the counter as he talks. "Somewhere in my self-induced alcoholic haze, I started thinking about that--that calm, that quiet." The corner of his mouth tilts up. "And then I woke up on your sofa." 

"Did you even like her? Sarah?" 

Eleanor is sure the question startles both of them. It's not what she meant to ask, not really. But she finds that she needs to know the answer to that. Liam shrugs, says that she was a nice girl, and Eleanor finds herself pushing, wanting to know why Liam dated her for so long if she wasn't what he wanted. 

"Do you even know what you want?" she asks finally. Frustration - at herself, at Liam, at the whole situation - makes the question sharper than she intends and Liam's gaze falters. He looks almost hurt. She nearly takes it back then, but a part of her needs to hear him say it, say that it's Louis that he wants. If he would just _say it_ maybe this feeling in her stomach would quit twisting, would just go away. 

Eleanor's angry again and it's disconcerting. She wonders briefly if this is what it's like being Liam, this roller coaster of emotions - everything and then nothing and back around again. It's exhausting.

"Liam-"

Instead of answering, he asks his own question. "Why did you let him do that? With me?" he clarifies, like she doesn't know exactly what he's talking about. Eleanor has her mouth open to give him the same answer as before, but he waves it away. "Every time we--" He breaks off, blushing. "Each time he would say it was okay, that he had permission. You'd said he could. But that doesn't make sense, El."

"Don't call me that." She's lost focus, lost control of the whole conversation. "You don't get to call me that!"

"I've fucked your boyfriend, _Eleanor_ ," Liam says. His voice is low, raw. He's stepped in close and she can't _not_ look at him. "The least you could do is tell me why you let it happen." The words are harsh, so unlike anything she's ever heard Liam say before, and Eleanor wants to lash out, wants to slap him. 

Only he's shaking. 

He's shaking and when she look at him, _really_ looks at him, Eleanor can see he's about to break wide open. And just like that, all her anger is gone. She reaches out and he flinches, but she just brushes her fingers over his cheek, curls her along the line of his jaw. He closes his eyes then, like he can't stand to see how she's looking at him. She hugs him them, just wraps both arms around his neck and holds on tight. 

It takes a couple of breaths, but a pair of arms circle around her back. He holds on just as tight. 

 

That's how it goes for a while. They understand each other. Liam goes home that day and they never really talk about it. Louis just looks between the two of them and she sees that he wants to ask, but never does. He seems content that everything is good between them all. 

The boys record their third album. Eleanor graduates. She moves into Louis's apartment while they're away touring and when they're done, they come home. Liam has his own place, but more often than not, he's at theirs. She likes Liam's enthusiasm, the way he gets truly excited about things. Louis laughs at him, but she can tell he likes it too. She likes the way Louis can get Liam to do almost anything, but at the same time, he never pushes Liam too far. 

She likes the evenings they spend, more often than not, all flung along the length of the sofa. Louis sat on one side, a warmth curled around her, and Liam on the other end, hand wrapped around her ankle as she wiggles her toes under his thigh. 

It's comfortable, safe. 

 

And then Liam starts dating Laurel. 

They double-date because she and Louis are important to Liam, she knows this. He's excited to introduce them. Eleanor tries, she does. She's polite, makes conversation. It's enough to make Liam smile broadly at her, too distracted by his date to see she's only going through the motions. Louis, on the other hand, keeps looking at her. She avoids his gaze and concentrates on her meal. 

They finish dinner and Eleanor watches Liam help Laurel with her coat. His hand settles low on her back, tugging her closer to his side, and something curls in Eleanor's stomach. Liam goes to kiss her goodbye on the cheek and she shifts away, subtly enough that it looks like an accident. 

Louis is watching her again. 

She smiles brilliantly at Laurel and tells her what a pleasure it was to meet her. Laurel laughs and says that Louis and El are all Liam talks about. From the corner of her eye, she watches Louis smile. It's a little forced and Eleanor stops herself from pointing and yelling, "Aha! You too!" because it would be childish and she is not a child. 

Not anymore. 

 

They're rough with each other that night. Louis fucks her hard, pressed down into the mattress; she retaliates, scratches down his back, twists her fingers in his hair and pulls. She sucks marks onto his collarbone and he swears, the words harsh and heavy against her neck. 

The room is silent when they finish, their breaths quieting after a while. Neither of them speak and finally, out of sheer exhaustion, they sleep. 

 

A week later Louis goes to visit his mum and sisters. He kisses her on the cheek and she pretends it's because he misses them. When she comes home from work to an apartment so still that it hurts to move in, she knows it's not.

 

Eleanor doesn't know how long she's been standing at the sink when she notices the pounding on the door. It startles her, and for a split second she thinks Louis's name. But Louis's still in Doncaster and anyway, he's got a key. She makes her way to the door.

It's Liam. 

Of course it's Liam.

He smiles, wide and happy, as she steps back to let him in. Eleanor goes through motions, takes his coat and heads into the kitchen to make tea. He follows, a solid presence that shadows her. It makes her head hurt. Her fingers fumble when he says, "Is Louis due back soon? I wanted to take you both for dinner."

He looks confused when she tells him Louis in Doncaster this week. 

"Oh, I thought-- He said to come by. Earlier, when I texted him. He said--" Liam breaks off. "Ellie?"

"I hate that nickname." She does. From the corner of her eye, Liam ducks his head, runs a hand over his neck. She hates it more that she'll let him get away with it. Has done, really, after that late night. 

Maybe that's where all their troubles started, when she made the decision not to call. 

It's not though, Eleanor knows. It started long before that. 

A hand on her elbow makes her jump. and she knocks a tea cup into the sink. It doesn't shatter, but a piece chips off the lip. Eleanor can't help staring at that tiny piece of porcelain, stark white against the silver of the stainless steel. Fingers brush her wrist and she pulls away to get another cup.

"How's Laurel?" she asks instead. Liam ignores it.

"Eleanor--" There are fingers on her elbow now, soft but firm in their grip. She flinches anyway. They tighten and she finally looks up. Liam's eyes are on her face, his brows furrowed in concern and confusion. It's a familiar tableau - the two of them standing this way in the kitchen. Similar, but not quite. 

This time she's the one about to shatter.

Liam must see something in her face. "Ellie--"

Jerking her arm out his grip, she snaps, "Don't." 

The word is supposed to come out sharp, demanding. It doesn't. Eleanor isn't even aware she's crying until Liam's thumbs are wiping the tears off her cheeks. His hands are so large, warm where they're curved around her jaw. There's a buzzing in her head, a white noise that makes it hard to hear the way Liam's saying her name, the way he's asking _what's wrong_ and where's Louis. 

So many questions.

She presses her lips against his, cutting all his words off - _shut up, shut up, shut up_ \- and the sound in her head intensifies. 

Liam's mouth opens under hers almost immediately and then there's a hand in the loose tangle of her hair, cupping the back of her head. He moves her, placing her where the hot slide of his tongue can curl around hers. The edge of the counter is cutting into her back, a tiny point of pain that she likes. Without realizing it, she's tugging at his shirt, slipping her hands under the untucked hem. His skin is hot.

She has a split second to wonder if this is how Louis felt when he was with Liam - fragile, overwhelmed, _wanted_ \- when he jerks back. His mouth is red and wet; there's shock on his face. He looks scared. Words are on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows them. It wouldn't change anything really, to lay blame, so she keeps quiet while Liam struggles.

But then he's gone and Eleanor is alone again.  
 

 

Louis comes home a few days later. They're still stiff, circling each other warily and not talking. The silence is strange to Eleanor; Louis always talks, even when he's saying nothing, there's always the sound of his voice. She miss it, misses Louis. Misses something - _someone_ \- else, but Eleanor's an expert at not thinking about things now.

 

Louis's just placed a spoonful of mashed potatoes on his plate when Eleanor says, "I kissed Liam."

"That would explain his I'm sorry text last week." Eleanor not quite sure if she's imagining the slight tremble in Louis's hand when he puts the serving spoon back. He passes the bowl to her without another word and she wants to scream at him. _Doesn't it make you angry? Is his mouth always that soft? Did it feel like he was was consuming you, too?_

Instead, she takes the bowl and they finish the meal in silence.

 

Eleanor knows that Liam is supposed to be at the event. Still, it's like a punch to the gut when she turns her head and he's standing there. The stylist still loves to put him in waistcoats, she thinks absently. They suit him though, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders, the line of his torso. His trousers are dark, skin tight, and make him seem a million miles long. He looks good.

The fingers around her waist tighten and she knows that Louis's seen him as well. 

There are paps everywhere, the lightning flashes of their cameras are still disconcerting even after three years. It's what makes her turn into Louis, closer than they've been in two weeks, so she can whisper, "Do you miss touching him?"

Louis gasps, hot breath against her jaw. He shivers when she hums a quiet questioning sound against his ear. His fingers dig in painfully where they're resting on her waist. 

Eleanor's not quite sure what she's doing, not really. But she's tired of the silence between the two of them, tired of _not knowing_. Before she can say anything else, Louis stiffens and Eleanor knows that Liam's made his way over to them. They stand like strangers, Eleanor notes, awkward and rigid. Liam barely looks at either of them as they exchange pleasantries for the nearby audience. 

She hates it. She hates all of it.

It's that feeling, the same dangerous edge that made her say those words to Louis just moments ago, that has her asking after Laurel. Like poking at an open wound. Liam mumbles, "I've broken it off with her." 

She's not the only one surprised at that. Louis's chin snaps up, his startled, "You never said--" interrupted by Liam's quiet, "It wasn't fair to her."

He does look then, at both of them, before walking away to get lost in the crowd. Louis's hand is tight on her waist again; she can feel every single finger burning through her dress. She feels wild.

 

It's like a switch has been thrown inside Eleanor. 

Through the evening, when she knows Louis can't respond, she takes to teasing him. Leaning over to put her mouth to his ear while they stand there, _did he suck you off?_. Sliding a hand over his knee at the dinner table with a _I bet he looks good on his knees_. 

_What kind of noises does he make?_

_Is he loud?_

_Did he hold you down to fuck you?_

_Did you like it?_

The last one has him slamming the two of them through the door of the ladies room. It's a single, gleaming mirrors and marble floors that Eleanor only has a split second to admire before Louis's mouth is on hers. He bites at her lips and she curls her fingers into the lapels of his coat, pressing back just as harshly. 

His breath is ragged against her neck when he slides a hand under the edge of skirt, skates his palm up the back of her thigh. His fingers trace the line of her knickers over her arse and curl around the thin strip at her hip. She bites the skin just below his ear and feels his fingers tighten, hears the tear of fabric. 

Eleanor refuses to think about the way her hands shake as she tugs the zipper of Louis's trousers down. Or how the fabric of her ruined underwear flutters against the inside of her knee as it falls to the floor. She focuses on the press of Louis's fingers into her thigh, the way he feels - hot and hard - as he slides into her. She focuses on the way Louis's voice cracks on her name when he's fully seated. 

They've never fucked without a condom. 

Even though Eleanor knows _why_ , knows it's better to be safe than sorry, she can't help but think that this way could be addictive. It feels like all her nerve endings are on fire, like she can feel every inch of skin as Louis slams into her. 

It doesn't take long for either of them. Eleanor nearly bites through her lip when her orgasm hits her, trying to stay silent, and Louis's not much better. His teeth dig into her shoulder when he comes, almost immediately after her. 

They're both silent in the aftermath. But Louis's hand is gentle on her arm when she staggers, legs wobbly, over to the sink. He cleans himself quickly, binning the tissues, and then sinks to his knees in front of her. It makes her breath catch, the way he looks up at her; it's easy then, to remember why she fell in love with him. 

He cleans up the messy stickiness between her legs with soft hands. Before he rises, there's a whisper of lips against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and the ghost of a breath that makes the heat pool low in her belly again. Louis stands, smoothing her skirt down. 

As they're leaving, Louis bends over and picks something off the floor. She catches a flash of lace, pale and pink, as he slips it into his jacket pocket. An arm wraps around her waist and she curls into him, face warm. 

 

They still don't talk about Liam. But sometimes, in bed, she'll put her mouth to Louis's ear and murmur things. If Louis's fingers sometimes bruise her pale skin, if he presses down harder, faster--

Well, it's not exactly healthy, but it's the best spot they've been in for a while. 

 

The band does a short European tour and she sends Louis off with a quiet, "I trust you," that makes him stare at her for a moment before kissing her hard enough that it hurts, just a little. 

This time, she pays attention. Watches the interviews, reads the articles showing that Louis is back to bothering Liam, blatantly trying to get his attention like he had so many times before. Eleanor can tell Liam's trying to resist, confused about everything.

She's drowsing off to sleep about halfway through their tour when her phone rings. Liam. She answers hesitantly and Liam doesn't even greet her, just pleads with her, to make Louis stop. It seems kind of circular, to that conversation so long ago, when she answers, "Do you want him to stop?" 

His voice cracks on her name. 

"Do you?" she asks again. Liam curses and then the line goes dead.

 

When they come off tour, Louis heads to Doncaster for Lottie's birthday. Eleanor feels terrible that she can't get off work, there's a big project due, and Louis's voice is the warmest it's been in a long time when he laughs and tells her she should have been a pop star instead. She wants to ask about Liam, but keeps the words to herself. 

It's been a 12 hour day and she's barely got her shoes off and some sleep bottoms on when there's a banging on the door. When she looks through the peephole, it's Liam. Something flips over in her stomach and her hands tremble a little as she opens the door. He looks tired, worn down, and she's reaching out before she can help herself. He barely hesitates when she wraps her arms around him, tugging him inside. 

He only says her name, nothing more, and her stomach twists at the pain and confusion etched into each syllable. 

This isn't what she meant to do, not at all. 

Before she realizes what she's doing, Eleanor's pressing kiss after kiss to his mouth, mumbling _sorry_ with each one. Liam starts kissing back and in the blink of an eye, they're stumbling back into the bedroom. It's quiet and desperate and Eleanor doesn't think at all. 

Liam's hands feel huge on her body and he touches her like she'll break. He shakes when he slides into her and Eleanor digs her nails into his back to hold on. 

He's gone when she wakes. 

It hurts more than she cares to admit. 

 

Louis comes home, happier than she's seen in ages. Eleanor does her best, she does. She smiles and kisses back, lets him curl around her, loves the slide of his hand at the nape of her neck. She ignores the feeling that's settled in her stomach, like something's missing. Like the puzzle isn't complete. 

She _tries_. 

 

Liam does not try. Liam doesn't respond to texts, refuses to answer phones calls. He ignores it all and Eleanor watches as Louis becomes a little lost. She knows she should tell him, give him the reason. The way Louis's taken to watching her, she thinks he already knows. The fact that he doesn't pull away, that he keeps touching her, well. It makes it easier to breathe. 

Liam still isn't trying though, nearly two weeks later, and Eleanor lets the anger settle into her bones. Something has to change. 

 

They've got a meeting at the studio, a discussion on a possible Christmas album, and Eleanor comes along. She can feel the way Louis watches her, curious, but he's too excited to see boys (to see Liam, _finally_ ) to say anything. Harry, Niall, and Zayn greet her with wide smiles and hugs; she'd forgot really, how lovely they are. Liam's last, later than she knows they're all used to him being. Louis's worrying at his lip and she presses a soft kiss to his cheek. 

He's distracted a moment later by something Niall says and it's not long before their voices are raised, loud and excited. 

She sees Liam before he sees her. It's happenstance, just the random moment where's she's turned away from where the other four are focused on each other. 

The moment he does see her, his face pales and she _knows_ he's going to run. For a split second, she considers letting him. 

But the sound of Louis's laughter rings out and Eleanor remembers the way she felt that next morning. She remembers the last two weeks, the restless nights and walking into a room to find Louis staring down at his mobile like it was broken. She remembers the last _year_.

She's played her part in this guilt, she _knows_ this, but she'd _stayed_ , god dammit. She hadn't run off like a coward. Like Liam. 

Eleanor calls out his name. Clean, sharp. 

 

Liam doesn't look at her once during the meeting. She's staring herself, can feel Louis's gaze on her. There's a brush of fingers over her hand and she twists her palm up, slides her fingers through his. 

It's not until Louis leans and murmurs, "You'll break it," that she realizes she's been worrying her necklace again. Louis's movement must catch Liam's attention; he finally looks over. She watches his eyes drop to her fingers, to where they've still got the pendant trapped on its chain. 

Eleanor feels mean, wants _some_ kind of reaction. She brings it up to her mouth to kiss it and watches as Liam pales. She can see the hurt flash over his face and there's a little twist of satisfaction in her stomach. Somehow, though, it feels a little hollow. 

The meeting finishes and Liam wanders away. She knows that Louis's seen, but he doesn't move, talking to the other three and after a moment she squeezes his hand and follows. 

It takes a moment, down one hallway then another, before she sees him. He's leaned against the wall, head back eyes closed. She doesn't touch him, doesn't say anything. After a moment, he rolls, shoulder against the wall, until he's looking at her. Neither of them speak. Eleanor watches Liam's eyes dip down, know he's staring at that stupid necklace again. 

It's just a thing, she wants to yell. It's just a thing and it's not you and Louis hates that you won't talk to him and I hate that you left and--

"Was it some kind of game?" Liam says so quietly that it takes a moment to get through all the sound in her head. 

For a moment she just stares at him, stares at the way he's curled into himself. It's familiar to her. She's seen Louis like this so many times in the last year or so. Without thinking, Eleanor reaches out. Liam jerks back, just the tiniest of movements and Eleanor drops her hand. It's hard to breathe suddenly.

Liam's eyes are wide on hers, waiting. 

She thinks about those eyes, warm and happy. She thinks about sofas and late night phones calls, about doors being held and laughter. She thinks about hands, one set broad and rough, the other graceful and still so, so strong. Eleanor ignores the way her own fingers shake as she reaches around the find the clasp on her necklace. It takes a couple of tries -- Liam looks confused now -- but finally she manages to get it undone. 

He doesn't flinch this time, when she reaches for him. She pulls at his clenched fingers, drops the pendant and chain onto his palm, on top of the indents made by his fingernails. 

"No," Eleanor finally answers. Her voice is raspy for some reason. Her eyes sting a bit, but she doesn't think about it. "It wasn't a game."

 

The room is dark, although it's not all that late. They're lying in bed and Eleanor can't help curling into Louis's side. His fingers are cool, slow, where he's running them through the hair at her temple. They've not said more than a handful of words since coming back from the studio. Neither of them is tired, but Eleanor can feel herself drifting, close to sleep. The steady rise and fall of Louis's chest under her cheek helps the illusion.

She knows Louis's noticed the missing necklace, but the only response she's been given is the press of a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. She refuses to cry. 

 

The pounding on the door startles them both. They're short, harsh knocks. Angry. It doesn't stop either of them from scrambling off the bed. 

Liam comes through the door and for a split second, Eleanor is actually scared. He looks wild, brandishing his fist out in front of him. Something flashes gold in the low light of the room. Liam's hand is shaking and Eleanor isn't scared any more. 

"What is this?" His voice is rough. Liam shakes the necklace at Louis and then back at Eleanor. "What am I supposed to do with this? What is it supposed to _mean_?"

Eleanor moves first, but Louis is closer. He reaches out, wraps a hand around Liam's wrist. He's barely got Liam's name out of his mouth before he's shoved against the wall. From where she's standing, Eleanor can see the surprise on Louis's face. Liam never pushes back.

She can also see the way his eyes darken, the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip as Liam keeps him pressed tight to the wall. 

It looks like someone cuts his strings, the way he collapses into Louis when she whispers his name. 

It's a blur in her memory later, but she always remembers the feel of Liam under her hands, the way he shakes apart. They end up on the floor, wrapped around each other, legs tangled. Eleanor curls a hand around Liam's neck and he flinches, starts to pull back. She holds on tighter. 

"I don't understand," he mumbles into her neck. "I don't understand what you want from me."

She leans in then, speaks softly into his ear. She tells him the truth, from the beginning. She tells him that it hurt when he was gone and how lost Louis was. She whispers how lost they both are, how she thinks that they're both more than a little in love with him. He curls into her, closer with each word she murmurs. 

"We just want to love you," she says and can feel his breath hitch. The second the words fall from her mouth, Eleanor realizes that it's exactly what she wants, that this is the only way this can end. It has to be. She whispers the words again, "We just want you to let us love you, Liam. That's all, to let us love you and--and maybe--" she cuts off, afraid to say the rest. 

It doesn't matter, Louis does it for her. 

"And maybe have you love us back. Just a little?"

Louis's voice is hesitant, but warm. His fingers more so when the slide through hers where they're still curled around the back of Liam's neck. Liam finally looks up at the touch and she can see the want there, the desperate need to believe them. She can also see how overwhelmed he is, how exhausted. 

Eleanor moves to rise and both boys make sounds of protest. She ignores the flood of warmth in her belly, tugs them both up anyway. Liam sways the slightest bit and she and Louis both wrap steadying arms around him. They need to sleep. Eleanor says as much. 

There's the slightest moment of hesitation from Liam when she steps toward the bedroom and Eleanor knows what he's thinking, what he's remembering. But then Louis wraps his arms around Liam's stomach, gives him momentum, his leg pressing Liam's forward step by step. 

Liam laughs, a startling sound in the stillness of the flat, and Eleanor watches Louis finally relax. 

 

It's warm with three bodies in the bed, but Eleanor refuses to move. It's warm and that, along with the steady ins and outs of the boys' breathing has Eleanor fading fast. 

Right before she slips under, she hears Liam's quiet answer. It's enough for Eleanor. She can hear Louis's quiet murmurs, knows it's enough for him as well. 

"I do love you, you know. Love you both."

 

They'll figure everything else out in the morning.


End file.
